


french braids and french bread

by thealienmeme



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hair Braiding, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Apocalypse, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), is it not enough to have two fools in love?, just all around soft, mentions of bread, must a fic have major plot points?, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23660095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealienmeme/pseuds/thealienmeme
Summary: anthony "j'acts of service" crowley strikes again, but this time with feelings
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 121





	french braids and french bread

**Author's Note:**

> bro shout out to aeron and kaleigh for putting up with my shit for almost a year now damn - art by @pampd_illustrations

_This is ridiculous_ , thought Crowley on his way home to the South Downs. He glared at the bread in the passenger seat as if it was the cause of these- these _feelings._

Crowley had just driven to London* to retrieve some of Aziraphale’s favorite baguettes from the bakery that had sat a block from his bookshop for the last 20 years.

*What would take a normal person hours, but what takes a person-shaped being only 30 minutes

“Had” being the operative word, here, as Aziraphale was no longer the proprietor of A.Z. Fell and Co. Word on the street was that he had retired to a small cottage with his eccentric friend who had an affinity for old cars and black clothes. 

_This is ridiculous, you’re ridiculous,_ Crowley thought, again, to himself. _He’s your… your… er… husband? No, I haven’t proposed*. Partner? Nah, that makes us sound like detectives. Boyfriend? Hm. Not really “boys” are we?_

 _*_ Yet

Crowley was slowly losing his point as he sped down the motorway. 

_That’s not the point, the POINT is that he’s your... something… and you wake up every day in your shared bed and say ‘I love you’ and exchange affections and so something as simple as getting bread from a Heaven-forsaken bakery is not going to scare him away._ Crowley sighed and cracked his knuckles on the steering wheel. 

This wasn’t the first time he had questioned whether one of his many acts of service could be seen as “too much” by a certain fussy angel. And being as he might as well be called “Anthony J’Acts of Service Crowley,” this wasn’t even the first time he had questioned it this week. 

It had been a year since the world was set to end Heaven v.s. Hell-style, and Crowley and Aziraphale were enjoying retirement together in a sweet little home by the sea - something that had quite literally been Crowley’s wildest fantasy for centuries. 

Despite having exchanged ‘I love you’s’ and doing all sorts of couple-related things, Crowley couldn’t help but still feel that little tug every time he did something that could be considered “too fast.” But the ‘60s are in the past, they’re now freely and openly in love, and this little internal argument can fuck right off. 

Crowley pulled up to the cottage, took a deep breath, and grabbed the bag of freshly-baked baguettes*.

*Which absolutely should _not_ be steaming, but as we all know, what Crowley and Aziraphale expect simply becomes reality. And Crowley expected there to be fresh bread in that bag. 

He lifted up his sunglasses, a request Aziraphale had made a few weeks ago, and stepped into the foyer. The smell of hot chocolate wafted through the hallway and filled his lungs. He could hear the fire crackling in the sitting room along with someone softly humming. 

Crowley was suddenly overwhelmed at just how much this all already felt like home after only a few months. 

He walked slowly down the hall and turned into the living room to find Aziraphale, humming to himself as he pawed gingerly at an ancient looking book. He smiled when he noticed that the angel was humming along to something playing through his earphones attached to an old cassette player. One that Crowley had gifted him along with some mixes that most certainly weren’t a carefully crafted and elaborate way to express his feelings. 

Aziraphale had not noticed Crowley’s entrance, though Crowley was sure he could feel his demonic essence as soon as he was within a five-mile radius of their little home. 

Crowley set the bag down on the side table, leaned over the back of the couch, and gently tugged one of the earphones out. 

“Listening to bebop, now, are we?” He whispered into the now free ear. 

Aziraphale turned and shone Crowley a smile that could’ve powered at least ten towns before giving him a quick peck on the cheek and saying, “Yes, it seems some old fool who still thinks he looks cool in a leather jacket has convinced me that quite a bit of it is worth listening to. Only every now and then, of course.” 

“Am I to believe that I’m the old fool when you’re sitting here in an argyle jumper?” Crowley chuckled as he plopped down next to Aziraphale. 

“Yes, but I supposed you’re _my_ old fool, and that makes it better,” Aziraphale turned fully away from his book now to give Crowley a soft kiss. His right hand reached up to sink into the hair near the nape of Crowley’s neck. 

“Hm, it’s getting quite long,” Aziraphale noted as he pulled away, but remained close enough to bump noses. 

“Yeah, I guess it is. When would you say is the last time you saw it this long?” Crowley asked, reaching out to twine their fingers together. Always trying to get closer. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Noah’s Ark, maybe?” Aziraphale smiled as he looked off into the distance, seeing not a cottage in 2020 England, but a dusty boat holding two of every kind of creature, including ethereal ones. 

“Do you like it?” Crowley hated how insecure the question sounded. It didn’t matter if Aziraphale liked it, it was Crowley’s hair. And Crowley hated when women in relationships with shitty men are constantly asking their boyfriends or husbands “Does this look good?” “Do you like this?” as if it doesn’t matter what the woman likes or wants to look like, and why do the men always-

“I think it looks marvelous, darling,” Aziraphale cooed, immediately chasing away the feminist argument Crowley was about to launch into in his head. “You always look so gorgeous.” 

“Thank you, angel, but you’re the gorgeous one,” Crowley squeezed their interlocked fingers and watched as a light blush dusted Aziraphale’s round cheeks. 

Aziraphale smiled softly at their hands before a question seemed to form a shadow on his face. He shifted a little on the couch so that his legs were now both on the cushion and crossed. 

“Crowley, do you… would it bother you terribly if… well, I don’t want to interrupt any plans…” Aziraphale began to fidget as he tried to find the right way to ask whatever it was he was about to ask. 

“You know you can ask me anything,” Crowley replied, cooly. 

“Can I braid your hair?” 

The question took Crowley by surprise for a few reasons. The first being that Aziraphale was absolutely allowed to touch him whenever, for they’ve spent far too many centuries not in constant embrace, and he almost didn’t even have to ask. The second is that Crowley didn’t even know Aziraphale knew how to braid. 

“Er, uh, sure! Yeah, yeah, do you, erm, know how to?” Crowley asked, trying not to sound as surprised as he felt. 

“Well, I don’t think I would be asking if I didn’t, would I?” Aziraphale smirked at him and made a motion with his hand that told Crowley to turn around. “Go ahead and turn around, dear.”

After some shuffling, Crowley did as he was told, placing himself so that Aziraphale’s legs now ran along both sides of his and his back faced him. Crowley instantly melted at Aziraphale first, tentative touch to his scalp, and he only melted further as careful fingers began brushing through each strand. 

Aziraphale began braiding, loosely at first, and would get all the way to the bottom before brushing it all out and starting again. He would lightly scratch at the nape and massage his way back up to the crown, sometimes stopping to rub gently at the top of Crowley’s ears. 

Crowley, who had started this endeavor sitting up, was soon laying fully against Aziraphale’s chest. He wasn’t even sure he could reach his hair anymore, but he didn’t care. Hours could have passed and he would be none the wiser. As he leaned back farther, Aziraphale tipped Crowley’s head back and kissed his forehead, and his cheeks, and his ears, and his neck. 

[ ](https://ibb.co/nzTH3WR)

“Watch it, angel, if you go any lower, we’ll have to move this party down the hall.” 

Aziraphale exhaled a chuckle against the curve of Crowley’s throat before placing a kiss on the top of his chest. Crowley opened one eye and turned back to face Aziraphale. 

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Aziraphale tutted. “You were gone all day and I- wait, where were you, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Crowley sat up suddenly, almost hitting his head off of Aziraphale’s chin. 

“Oh my Satan, the bread! I forgot about the bread. Dammit, and I spent so much gas on the trip*. Oh, angel, I’m sorry.” 

*Demons like Crowley, of course, do not need to pay for gas, but it’s the principle of the thing. 

Aziraphale laughed. 

“Sorry for what, dear? You haven’t even told me what you’re talking about?” Aziraphale brushed Crowley’s hair aside and gave his neck another kiss. “What’s this about bread?” 

Crowley stood up, wobbly, and went over to the side table to grab the white bag he had set there hours ago. 

“Oh, Crowley, you didn’t! You went all the way to Balthazar’s for me?” Aziraphale had jumped up and was now standing next to Crowley, eyeing up the bag. 

“Well, I, yes, you… I mean, you said something the other day about missing their baguettes, so I figured, you know… why not go get some?” Crowley was looking away now, embarrassed. “They were still steaming when I got in, but I suppose a quick miracle could just-” 

Aziraphale put his hand over Crowley’s fingers, which were poised to snap the bread back to its original warm, steamy goodness. Crowley looked at Aziraphale, puzzled. 

“You know, if you’re just going to miracle them fresh, we could wait,” Aziraphale said, turning a little pink. 

“Why would we wait? What would we do instead?” 

Aziraphale’s eyes traveled down the hall to the master bedroom door. 

“Oh- OH! Oh… right. Yes! Of course. That… that would be tickety-boo,” Crowley said as he felt his own blush creep up. 

“Tickety-boo?” Aziraphale began laughing. Crowley joined in, too. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, dear, but would you please join me in our bedroom?” 

Aziraphale had turned to walk down the hall but stopped when he realized Crowley was still standing in the middle of the sitting room. 

“Angel?” 

“Yes?” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Crowley jogged over to Aziraphale, scooped him up into his arms, and carried him the rest of the way to their room. 

The bread would, of course, simply have to wait. 

*******BONUS********************************************************************

Crowley looked at Aziraphale from across their small kitchen table. They had an assortment of jams and butter laid out in front of them as they nibbled on slices of baguette. They were both in robes, Aziraphale in his fluffy pale blue one and Crowley in his black satin one. They both had a slight flush to their cheeks and Crowley noted that Aziraphale was positively glowing. Everything was coated in a golden haze as the sun set just beyond their kitchen windows. 

“Say, you never told me where you learned to braid,” Crowley said around the baguette currently in his mouth. 

“Oh! Right, well, back in the 80s there was this young girl named Sarah,” Aziraphale wiped a few crumbs off of his chest. “She, well, she didn’t get along with her parents, you see. So she came in and would browse for a few hours and I knew she didn’t have the money to make any purchases, so I let her. She would grab a few books sometimes and read in the sitting area.” 

Aziraphale looked fondly at the table as he remembered. 

“I eventually asked her why she spent so much time at the shop,” Aziraphale looked horrified for a moment before shaking the disgust away. “Some people shouldn’t have children, let’s just leave it at that. She began asking me all sorts of questions and one of them was whether or not I knew how to braid.” 

Crowley smiled as he felt where the story was going.  
  
“I told her that I never had learned, and she said ‘What better time than the present?’ A few hours later, I had mastered the art.” Aziraphale giggled. “She was such a smart girl. I sent a few blessings her way, and she eventually was taken in by her aunt. A lovely woman who couldn’t have her own children. It all worked out, of course. Last I heard, Anna was working in London as hairdresser for celebrities.” 

Aziraphale sighed as he finished his story and popped another piece of baguette into his mouth. He wiggled with delight as he chewed. 

“Aziraphale, has anyone ever told you that you’re an angel?” 

Aziraphale smiled and put his hand over Crowley’s on the table. 

“As a matter of fact, I do so happen to know a certain someone who likes to remind me every single day.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, check out my other GOmens fics!!! kudos and comments always welcome!!


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